Page 46 of Break Me Knot

ADRIAN: The biggest actor in Hollywood right now? That's concerning.

COLE: How did she react when you mentioned him?

ZANE: Blank confusion. Like she's been living in a void. And she let slip that she works “jobs”. Plural.

Without a designation card for employment, she’d be forced to work for cash-only jobs, and those are often the most brutal and lowest paid. My armtightens slightly around her shoulders, protective rage building in my chest. How long has she been pushing herself? Why isn’t she at Haven, living a life suited to her biology?

COLE: Black market suppressants aren't cheap. Especially with Hardwick's restrictions.

ADRIAN: Two minimum wage jobs would barely cover rent and suppressants. No wonder she's malnourished.

The thought makes me sick. Her ribs bump under my hand. Her clothes hang off her frame. She's been starving herself to afford the medication she needs to stay hidden.

ZANE: An omega of her age facing a heat should not have been afraid. She should know exactly what it is and what to expect.

It was clear her idea of it was pure terror. And she’d only had the one before this one.

COLE: She should be bonded by now. Maybe even pupped. Instead, she's running herself into the ground, working multiple jobs to stay hidden.

ADRIAN: The question is, hidden from what? Or from whom?

Mira shifts slightly in her sleep, a small whimper escaping her throat. I gentle my scent immediately, soothing her back to a deeper rest.

COLE: Whatever she's running from, it’s bad if she'd rather live like this.

ADRIAN: No omega chooses this kind of existence without reason.

ZANE: She's terrified of going back somewhere. You should see how she flinches at certain things. This isn't just anxiety. It's a trained response.

I think of how she checks exits, makes herself small, how she expects punishment for every slip. Someone taught her those responses.

COLE: Institutional?

ADRIAN: Would explain the gaps in her cultural knowledge. The behavioral conditioning.

ZANE: Whatever it is, she's a survivor. You should see her, even sleeping she's partly alert. But she's so strong. To have survived this long alone…

Her strength amazes me. Despite everything, she's kept fighting, kept surviving. Kept her spirit, even if it's buried deep.

ZANE: She said she lived in Camden before her designation came in. There can’t be many omegas by the name of Mira from that area.

COLE: We have access to the omega registry. I’ll check.

That's one advantage of Hardwick's extensive documentation—each omega is meticulously tracked. We have records dating back to when the laws began to shift concerning omegas and their well-being. It was then that institutes such as Haven opened, and families started entrusting their omega children to the system designed for their education and care, following Hardwick's guidance.

Yet, a thought nudges at the back of my mind. Could Haven itself play a role in Mira's troubles? Not the entire institution, but perhaps a rogue element—a bad apple hidden within its ranks? The very place meant to protect might harbor something more sinister.

I want our omega to tell us about herself, but she’s so damaged it won’t be easy for her to trust us. We’ll work on that, but in the meantime, any information we can find will help us help her.

ADRIAN: Good, Cole. Tell us as soon as you hear anything. Zane, did she let you buy anything for her?

My brothers know as well as I do she came here with nothing. Clothes destined for the charity bin. Thin and threadbare. The thing she calls a coat won’t stand up to any winter wind. She packed next to nothing when we took her from that dump of an apartment, not that she left any clothing behind. What she took was all she had.

I used the ridiculous stuff as cover to see what actually caught her eye. She didn’t want me to buy anything and looked terrified if I put items in the cart. Luckily, I brought my laptop with me and ordered the basics for her while she slept.

ZANE: She didn’t let me, but I ordered them anyway. They’re coming this afternoon.

Mira whimpers in her sleep, her body tensing against mine. Her scent spikes with distress, that bitter note of fear returning. My thumb flies over the screen.

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